If Only
by K-Shandra
Summary: If only. They were the two words that haunted him the most… If only she was a few years older; if only he was a few years younger… If only.
1. Chapter 1

Title: If Only  
Genre: NCIS – Angst, boatloads of it, I think Missy is snapping out of her slump (it's about time too).  
Pairing: Abby and Gibbs / Gabby  
Rating: T.  
Timeline: Season Ten  
Spoilers: 10X2 and a boatload of others too numerous to mention.  
Summery: If only. They were the two words that haunted him the most… If only she was a few years older; if only he was a few years younger… If only.  
Disclaimer: It's nice borrowing someone else's toys – I'll put them back, I promise.  
A/N: This started out as a bunch of ramblings Missy's been playing with… that only started to take shape after Gibbs's referral to Abby's nightmares… Missy questioned the How, and came up with the unless…  
Written: October 2012  
Warning: It's a little erratic, like memories usually are, and I had a bit of a heavy hand with it.  
Lyrics: Stand Up - Kick Love Into Motion, by Def Leppard  
Word Count: 3,070 (Excluding lyrics)

..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·.ƸϊƷ.·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..  
If you lay your cards on the table, oh yeah,  
I'll lay my love on the line,  
'till you're mine.  
..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·.ƸϊƷ.·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..

Gibbs lay on his couch, gazing up at the ceiling. His gut told him that tonight would again be one of those evenings. How he knew, he was not certain, however his gut kept him awake, kept him staring up at the ceiling in his lounge, waiting…

Not much time had elapsed since the bomb blast at the Navy Yard, just like not a lot of time had lapsed sine he had stabbed Dearing. He tried not to think too much about the reasons, the motivations behind his actions. Just like he was not entirely at ease with the fact that finding and getting rid of him had become personal, the stabbing so intensely gratifying. How it had actually calmed him as the man had bled out, his life draining from his body along with the treat he had posed. Professionally he would have just hauled his ass in, but the man had threatened, and nearly destroyed the life of the one person no one dared harm in Gibbs's life, Abby. His girl. The others he knew could look out for themselves, but Abby he had made a promise to, a promise he would keep until the day they lowered him into his grave. Because he would ensure that he would go before her. She was the one person he could never bury, because she would take with her the last bit of elation he still had in life. Another realization he did not want to delve to deep into.

He hated the evenings, the long nights when he could not sleep. The nights when thoughts like these plagued him, when his past haunted him, along with the things he could not have.

He wanted her to be happy. He did whatever he could, encouraged wherever he could, and watched from the sidelines as she continued her life. Envying any male who even for a moment caught her eye, yet knowing they would not remain for very long. That was one of the many reasons why he was unwilling to change their relationship. He could never live with being a has-been in her life, one she has moved on from. Rule twelve has been more for him than anything else, yet it was difficult to distance himself from her.

Just as he turned towards the back of the couch, hoping that sleep would finally claim him, his phone rang. He reached for it, not even bothering to check the ID. There was only one person who would phone him at this time of the night. 'Abby.' he answered steeling himself for the gasps and panicked voice he knew would greet him. That first night they had caught him completely off guard, having had him on his feet and half way to his front door before he realized that she had only called because of a nightmare. But his instinct was still stronger, and the moment her gasped 'Gibbs!' came across the line he found himself sitting uptight. Her fear, the tone of her voice; it was difficult not to react on the instinct. His need to protect her, to keep her safe, overrode every other sense.

'I'm here Abbs, what is it?' he lowly replied. It had taken a few times for him to realize that she calmed quicker if he used that tone, that it somehow soothed her, how or why he did not really want to question, his fear of the truthful answer only causing even more turmoil. Just as he did not question why he was the only person she seemed to call whenever it happened. He had listened to the others, having soon enough realized that she had not called any of them; that he was the only one who knew about the nightmares.

'Gibbs!' her second call came, and he knew she was still half asleep, her fear having gotten the better of her.

'I'm here Abbs.' He gently spoke, 'You're okay, it's just a dream.' His own heart pounded in his chest. Even though he knew this would happen, even with all of the preparation, with the knowledge, he still could not temper down his response to her call. He wished she would tell him what the dream involved, but she refused, preferring to continue every day like they never occurred. It was starting to wear on him though.

'Gibbs?' She finally asked, the slight confusion in her voice telling him she was finally awake, 'Oh god look at the time! I'm so sorry for waking you.' She quickly replied.

'It's okay Abbs, I wasn't asleep, you okay?' He replied once again settling to look up at the ceiling.

'Yes Gibbs.' Her answer came through the line not sounding as firm as he would have liked it.

'Ya wanna talk?' he asked, hoping that she would stay on the line a little longer.

'I should let you get to bed, there's work tomorrow.' She quickly countered, and Gibbs fought to contain the strained sigh that wanted to escape his lips. Every time she had given him that answer, and every time he felt a heavy sensation squeeze his heart. A sensation he had become all too familiar with.

'Sleep tight Abbs.' he lowly replied, wishing that she was there next to him as he said it, that he could have the privilege as saying that to her every night. And that every morning on waking, hers was the first face he would see.

'G'-night Gibbs.' her soft reply came, loosening the constraints surrounding his heart. It was those two words, spoken so softly, so intimately, that was why he would not complain about her calls. Why she could make them every night, and he would happily deprive himself of a few more hours of sleep, just to hear them. He waited to hear the click ending the call, incapable of doing it himself. Unlike at work, these calls were private, his focus only on her, not needed elsewhere. He could not end the calls, not when he wanted them to continue.

His mood dropped slightly when the click came, his heart seemingly skipping a beat as the short bolt of pain coursed through him. he placed his phone on the coffee table, before once again settling on the couch. He cannot even remember the last time he had willingly slept in his own bed, it had too much space, reminding him that he was alone. A while ago he had coped with it by working himself to near standstill before collapsing on his bed for a few hours of sleep. However, that had only worked for a few years, and unlike in the past he was not willing to temporary fill that void with someone utterly unsuitable. However, lately, even when his body was physically beyond tired, his mind would not shut down, and lying in his bed had become torture. It was no longer the cases that kept him awake, it was her, thoughts of her – memories of their numerous interactions.

Tried as he might, he found it increasingly difficult to build relationships with other women. The closeness they shared made him weary, and it had only increased over the last few years. He often found himself purposely pulling back from her, only to find that fighting the urge to hug her, or kiss her on the cheek, was more excruciating than going without his coffee. He needed to touch her. And if she ever gave him just the slightest indication that his attentions would be welcomed, that she wanted his attentions as more than rewards for a job well done, he would happily kiss any part of her – several times over. Much like that time under the mistletoe, when she had kissed him; it had taken every shred of his self-control to remain calm, to confirm that it had actually happened, that he had not imagined the ephemeral sensation, only to be filled with a sense of melancholy when he realized the motivation behind her kiss.

If he had to pinpoint a particular point in time when things had changed between them, when her hugs became more important, her smiles more gratifying, it had been on his return from Mexico. Maybe even before that. Her exuberance in seeing him had confirmed that she had genuinely missed him. The body slam hug that had greeted his return was unforgettable. He doubts there was any singular welcome in his life that had meant as much, the way her face had lit up every time she sees him. He felt a smile tug at his lips in remembrance of her exuberance just after that. They must have set some record for hugs exchanged, because he could not remember a single occasion, during that first month of his return, they had not exchanged hugs on his entering the lab. And then there was the occasion where she had handcuffed him to her… he cannot remember the amount of fantasies he has had since then – involving her and a set of handcuffs, and maybe some leather. She was welcome to do that to him again, any time she felt like it, he would willingly go wherever she led.

And then there was the multitude of small touches, brushing his shoulder, standing next to him… How they would burn his skin with awareness often long after she had touched him. They were like brands. He welcomed them, and she gave them so freely, making it so easy to return them, to touch her without thinking about the consequences or implications – had it been anyone else. Like the time he had massaged her thigh. It had been so instinctive, something that needed doing, an action performed without thought. And before he had even come to fully comprehend where his hands were, what he was actually doing, he had needed to leave. With his mind reeling at his actions, wanting to return and continue what he had been doing – because the feeling of her leg under his palms was something he had always wanted to discover. It was then that he had realized that things had drastically shifted, that any reason had become validation enough to touch, kiss or hug her. He was just thankful that she had not worn a skirt that day, because he doubts he would have been as capable of stopping if it had been her skin under his fingers.

If only she realized what the sound of her voice did to him, the way a simple smile or a jostle could pick him up, how much he enjoyed their bantering moments. Or how they gave him the strength to carry on, more so than the much results she constantly churned out for him, with predictable efficiency, even if many questioned her methods. She was comfortable with who she was, had no need to pretend, she knew that she was accepted and loved just as she was. And she loved those around her for who they were.

Loved… her words came back to him, that evening in his basement, when she had discovered what he had done. He had always feared that discovery, that the knowledge would drive her from them. It had eaten away at his soul for years, yet she had been understanding, and fearful. How could she ever doubt that he could love her any less. He could not love her any more than he already did either. Her willingness to accept him as he was, to not try and change him like the others had, is what made loving her as easy as breathing. How could anyone not succumb to her spell? Not be lured in by her optimism and genuine, unconditional, affection?

It was that spell of hers, that enchantment she so effortlessly wielded, that made his ensurance of her safety and happiness his top priority. Her discontent was enough to send him off the handle. Any threat to her safety provoked near-lethal thoughts towards those who placed her in danger – even to those close to him. Lately he had the fight the urge to do a full background check on any male whose name she mentioned, to haul him in and question him about his intentions. However, she rarely mentioned names, always having kept her private life outside her work – well other than that spell where McGee had featured. He was still not certain what happened there, but knew that unlike McGee, there was no way he could settle to being just friends with her if ever he was permitted closer. The question remaining had they been as close as he would like to be? He preferred to have a naive outlook when it came to Abby and her relationships, because the thought of any man with her, any man getting to, his envy would drive himself insane. Even if she had proclaimed that no one caught her eye for any extended period of time, just the thought of another man touching her, could provoke murderous thoughts. And it was that knowledge that held him back, made him think about things first, and settle for what he had with her. For as the others came and went in her life, he remained a constant, the one she never moved on from.

He still vividly remembered the night she had asked him if she could spend the night, how he had wished it had been for different reasons, that she wanted to spend it with him as a man and woman. He had spent most of that night lying in his bed, sleep eluding him, his mind incapable of resting. His thoughts, and fantasies, constantly shifting to the woman in his guest room, leaving him aroused and restless. It was not long after that that he had dismantled the guest room, having vowed that if she ever came to visit for the night again, she could have his bed, wear his clothes and stamp her presence on anything she chose to. Because that was what he wanted her to do, where he wanted her to be.

Few questioned why she was the one he remembered after that bomb blast, even he had not been willing to face up to the reasons. And even since then. he realized a long time ago that trying to fill the void left by Shanon and Kelly was impossible, he could not just find someone to love in their place, he had to heal first… only to find that he had already grown close to another, unknowing having let his guard down and let her in. He had fought it at first, wanting to distance himself from her, because he did not want to inflict any pain on her. He wanted things between then to remain light, he wanted to be able to flit with her, talk to her. He did not want to chance loosing that, not with his record. He usually riled people, especially women, and pushed them away, he would become wearing on her, she would loose her carefree nature, and he could not allow for that.

His fondest memory was of her intoxicated in his basement, and although the circumstances were not what he would have liked them to be, she had looked so appealing in his marines shirt, slightly, okay maybe overly inebriated. Had he been a lesser man, one who did not think of the consequences, he would have taken her to bed that night, and shown him what being so close to her did to him. For weeks after that he had refused to launder the shirt, until her lingering scent was no longer detectable, and even after that it had been folded and placed in his wardrobe, waiting for the next time he could hand it to her to wear, for the next time she slept over, and maybe allowed him to hold her. He could even take to sleeping on his bed then, because it would smell like her, and his back wont hurt as much from cramming on the couch. He'd also not need to run on caffeine and a few hours of snatched sleep, if she were to sleep in his bed he would make sure they went to bed early, so he could spend most of the night close to her, breathing her in, and maybe, just maybe get to make love to her, often, repeatedly. The thought of her body braced against his, pushing up against him as she sought her release. The thought of her sounds as she found it,

her body convulsing around him. God that's all he needed, to be full aroused and trying to get some sleep. he reached down to try and ease the ache there. Something he had become so familiar with. At first he had felt guilty when he imagined them together, whilst tending to the ache he felt, a random woman no longer sufficed – he wanted her, under him around him.

But that was not the only reason why he needed her. As gratifying as a physical relationship with her would be, it was the way she validated him, made him feel worthy, and welcomed his touch, which was why he needed her. She's the only woman who had had the guts to question him, without pulling rank or trying to emotionally manipulate him. She is his equal in every way that mattered. For years she has been his outlet for physical contact, the one he could touch, hug and even kiss without needing to explain his actions, without fearing repressions or accusations. Holding her made him happy, content, a feeling he rarely experienced.

If only she could love him in the way he did her, then maybe he would sleep more and drinking less caffeine. He would get to touch her more and spend less time in his basement, contemplating the construction of that yacht he had set out to build before his retirement.

If only.

They were the two words that haunted him the most. If only she was a few years older, if only he was a few years younger. If only she would give him a clear indication that he could be more to her. If only he knew he would not just end up being a passing fancy. Maybe then his quiet courting of her could become more. And he could have the one thing he coveted most – Abbigale Sciuto.

..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·.ƸϊƷ.·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..  
'cause I happen to be in love,  
And you happen to be the woman,  
We happen to be together,  
Try and stop this thing from coming.  
..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·.ƸϊƷ.·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..

Rights for continuation depends on Missy's mood – But for now, this is a standalone.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: If Only – Chapter Two  
Genre: NCIS – Angst  
Pairing: Abby and Gibbs / Gabby  
Rating: M –for implied content.  
Timeline: Season Ten - Having fun, A/U  
Spoilers: None really, just a bunch of random scribbles that will eventually make up a storyline.  
Summery: He hadn't meant to, but couldn't help it, and now he can't get past it.  
Disclaimer: It's nice borrowing someone else's toys – I'll put them back, I promise.  
A/N: Missy is having fun.  
Written: November 2012  
Word Count: 2,042

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Gibbs settled himself on his basement steps, looking out over the area below. His gaze landed on the timber stacked to the one side, before dropping down to the step below him and releasing a heartfelt sigh. He allowed his eyes to close as he steeled himself against the memories: well not his – but those he had just uncovered. And they weren't memories either, more like sub-conscious desires he never should have learnt about.

She will kill him if she ever found out, of that he was certain. And then things would become awkward between them, and he could not allow for that – anything but that. It was not like he had done on purpose, like he had intently set out to find anything, but now that he had, it changed so many things. Because now he knew – knew that he had never stood a chance in the first place. That conformation – the one he has always been afraid of – served as a severe kick in the guts. And was the reason why he had never done anything in the past.

If he was honest about it, he would willingly own up to the fact that he had thought about her, often, whilst tending to his needs. It was hard not to. They were close, and he wanted more… but after tonight: he was no longer certain if he could cope with the phone calls anymore. Yes, he wanted to be there for her, wanted for her to reach out to him. But now that he knew, now that it had been confirmed, he would be more concerned about the nights she did not call him. Because he abhorred to even think of the possible, even probable reasons behind her not calling him.

He knew that it was selfish to want her to call him more often: because that would mean that the nightmares were getting worse. However he had come to anticipate her calls, at times even wishing for them: wanting to hear that sleepy tone in her voice, just the thought of it brought a smile to his face. But things were different now, everything has changed, and already he could feel it eating away at him, leaving him to wonder if she would phone him tonight. And if she did not, could that mean she's…

It had happened earlier, at work. He really had not meant to pry, but he could not help it in the end. It had been temptation in itself. It had just happened. Yet, he never should have done it…

A meagre hour earlier, he had gone down to the lab: having planned on escorting her out of the building, as he so often did after work. Only this time he had planned to persuade her into having dinner with him: intent on getting her to talk about the nightmares that plagued her. He wanted to know what they were all about, needed to know if there was anything more he could do for her: other than be on the end of the line when she called. He knew that her late night calls would end once they were sorted, but she needed some sleep, she seemed excessively tired lately: even her Caf-Pows failed to produce the familiar results, and it concerned him.

The lab had already been dark on his entry: with all of the equipment and most of the lights already having been either shutdown or switched off. He made for her office: the low glow there having drawn him. He knew he would most likely find her there, seated at her desk, reading or contemplating something: it would be the perfect time to catch her.

However, she had not been in her office: and he did not want to contemplate the reason behind the heavy sensation that had settled over his heart at that discovery. The light in her office came from the one lamp at the back of her desk. Thinking that she had forgotten to turn it off, he moved around her desk to switch it off: it was when he had reached for the switch that he had accidentally knocked a small notebook, which had been standing on its side, from her desk. He had bent down to retrieve it: flipping it over to have a look at the cover, smiling slightly at the cover art – thinking the bats and sculls so true to her nature. He did not recognize it as any of the multitude of notebooks she always kept and wondered why she would keep it back there, then finally succumbed to his curiosity and flicked it open: only to draw back slightly on noting the dates written within – for a moment thinking it was her diary. His eyes followed her familiar scrawl, and within moments, he realized that it was not her diary par-say that he held, but her dream journal. The dates and inscriptions were at times very abrupt, simply stating no dreams.

He had glanced around her office: contemplating his options, before relenting to his desire to discover the content of her nightmares. He forwarded to about a month after the bomb blast, and started scanning the pages for the dates he remembered her calling him, and finally found an entry that corresponded: _"I had that dream again last nigh, and woke up calling Gibbs, he must think me crazy for phoning him so late, I hope he's not angry." _His heart had raced in his chest. The mere thought that he would get upset when she needed him seemed ludicrous: he would always be there for her.

He then scanned through the pages, checking dates and comparing them to the ones he remembered; all of them had the similar entries.

Feeling disheartened, he flipped two more pages before he came to a bulky entry: and had foolishly gotten his hopes up. The words had ingrained themselves into his mind: he was incapable of purging them from it, because they had as good as driven a stake through his heart. He could still vividly remember the trepidation he had felt at reading them…the words should have warned him…

"_Those dreams have started again. I'd thought they'd stopped, but they're back. I've actually missed them, and as much as I like them: they hurt. Because I know it will never happen, that he will never look at me that way. _

_Last night's one was really good, it kinda felt like my mind was making up for the prolonged absence of them. I get hot all over just thinking about it_."

He should have stopped there, knowing that whatever was to come would be extremely private…but for so long he had wanted to know what got her hot, what type of dreams she had: because he had had many about her, that he could not resist the temptation.

"He's like a god in my dreams, knowing exactly what I need. The things he can so effortlessly do. This time it was hot, grunting sex: the kind that no matter how deep he gets it's still not deep enough, or rough enough, but at the same time it's so amazingly tender. Oxymoron sex, I know, but just the thought of my legs pulled up, with him as beep inside me as he can possibly be: rocking, thrusting, to get closer still… his body over mine, holding onto me as he tries to get deeper still. With those deep, primal, guttural grunts that communicate his desire: confirming that it's me he cannot get deep enough into: cannot get enough of. That's the sex I want with him, the type where you don't have to hold anything back, where your throat hurts afterwards and you're left sweaty and clingy, because even though it's over you're not willing to let go. You want to do it all over again, because it's just sooo good."

Gibbs released a frustrated sigh, his jaw clenching slightly. Abbs, all you have to do is say the word, give me some indication that my attentions would be welcome, and I'll make love to you like that: and any other way you could come up with, he thought, feeling his body respond even more ardently at the thought of it being him.

He had checked the date listed with the entry, realizing that it had been not long before the intervals between her calls had prolonged: she only called him once a week now, compared to almost every second night a while ago. He turned a few more pages then discovered another entry. He knew it was wrong, but he could not help it. It felt like he had been handed to guide to pleasuring Abby, and he was a more than willing student.

"I yesterday once again had to watch as another woman drew his attention. How I envy them – not that I would trade our friendship for anything in the world. But women are drawn to him like bees to nectar. And sometimes I just wish he'd notice me. That just for once I could be considered as someone he would take to bed – even if it was just once: okay maybe not once, but one whole weekend of him – no, wait, that wouldn't be enough either. God I want him so bad, and then my dreams won't let up… I'm too scared to fall asleep: for the fear of what I might dream, and it's not just the nightmares. It's those dreams like last night, where we're together, making love so slowly, with him telling me all the things I've been wanting to hear from him for so long already. The kind where you look into each other's eyes, and it's just so right and so deep. All you want to do is lose yourself to the moment, and just connect, share that moment, and when it's done: just hold onto one another… And then I have to wake up and come to work: only to be reminded that I don't stand a chance, because another woman, one who possibly stands a chance, is once again vying for his attention."

That had been the entry that had driven the stake into his heart: because there was only one member at work whom she was that close to, and could draw women in like flies, if he cared to: and that was DiNozzo. Just the thought that she could be pining for attention from him: felt like someone was pouring hot water over his still beating heart. He liked to think that DiNozzo and Ziver had grown closer over the last few months, they have always complemented each other's skills. But just the thought that his girl, his Abby, wanted attention from that man: that was his undoing. He knew that it was not McGee, McGee had been a passing fancy: a very short lived fancy, but a fleeting one none the less. And he could not think of anyone else.

He had abandoned her journal after that. Placing it back where it had been, not even bothering to turn off the light before exiting her office.

That's how he came to be here, sitting on the stairs… wanting to forget what he had just read. Trying to forget the sensations that went through his body, every time she hugged him and her breasts pushed into his chest. And the few occasions where there had been full body contact, where he had longed to hold her there for just that much longer.

He grunted lowly as he rose, moving further into his basement. His new boat did not even draw his interest, he felt hollow somehow: a feeling he has not experienced in a very long time. He knew that trying to replace the part in his heart, his life, she has taken up would be impossible. In the past, he had always lingered on the hope that she would someday really notice him, realize that his actions denoted so much more than just courteous interaction. There were times his intentions grew bolder, but somehow she always seemed to miss them…and now he knew why: she wanted someone younger, more fervent than him. And much like him…the one she loved: was enamoured with another.

..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·.ƸϊƷ.·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..


	3. Chapter 3

Title: If Only – Chapter Three  
Genre: NCIS – Angst  
Pairing: Abby and Gibbs / Gabby  
Rating: M – for implied content.  
Timeline: Season Ten - Having fun, A/U  
Spoilers: None really, just a bunch of random scribbles that will eventually make up a storyline.  
Summery: He shouldn't, but he couldn't help it: sometimes one's hearts desire is difficult to suppress.  
Disclaimer: It's nice borrowing someone else's toys – I'll put them back, I promise.  
A/N: Missy is having fun – go with it.  
Written: December 2012  
Word Count: 1,533

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Gibbs stepped off the elevator, Caff-Pow in hand, as he made his way to Abby's lab. Her music was blaring, as usual, and cased a smile to tug at his lips, knowing he could, in all likelihood, sneak up right behind her. The other team members were finishing off their reports on their latest case and he was in need of his daily a hug – not that he would ever tell her that he needed them as much as she claimed to. Even after the discovery of her dreams, he could not distance himself. He had for a few days watched her interaction with Tony and Ziva, and although it had given him no indication of problems, he could not help but wonder at how capable she seemed of hiding her feelings.

Their interaction had also been strained the first few days after his discovery, as he had been uncertain as to how he should respond around her: especially knowing what he knew. But as everything with Abby, her exuberance soon smoothed over any complications, and very soon things were back to where they had been, before his discovery.

He smiled when he entered the lab, because her back was turned to him and she was busy looking at something on her computer. He carefully stepped up behind her, wanting to surprise her, and nearly dropped her Caff-Pow in shock when he saw what she was looking at. A bolt of dread shot through him: leaving him sicken to the spot, unable to move, unable to either think or speak. His heart started racing and a sudden sense of irritation overcame him as his mind revolted against what he was seeing.

He finally managed to gain his voice, and asked lowly, 'Something you're not telling me Abbs?'

At the sound of his voice, Abby suddenly swung around, her pigtails almost striking his face, as she exclaimed, 'Gibbs!'

Gibbs moved slightly from her, forcing himself to look away from the screen and the damming images it held.

'I don't have anything for you,' Abby suddenly spoke up, looking slightly confused at the Caff-Pow he held.

Gibbs handed the sweet beverage to her, shrugging his shoulders slightly, before reaching to take it back, 'If you're shopping for baby clothes you should be taking it easy on the caffeine.'

Abby pulled the cup out of his reach, replying, 'Ugh-ugh, this is mine,' before turning back to the screen. 'Anyways, I'm not shopping for me,' she continued as she placed the drink on the desk. With that, Gibbs suddenly felt able to breathe again. Just the thought that she could be, that someone had… he did not even want to contemplate what he would do if it ever did happen.

'My one friend, Hailey, who was with me at GSU, well she's pregnant with her first, and I'm shopping for the baby shower,' Abby started rambling pointing to the screen, "I really like this but I don't think she would, what do you think?'

Gibbs looked at the screen for a moment, then in his usual brusque manner replied, 'That depends Abbs, she like bats much?'

'Not really, no, but it's so cool, maybe I should get one anyway. Never know, I might one day have a baby, and then I could dress it in that,' Abby rambled.

Her words caused a tightening sensation to form around Gibbs's chest, rendering breathing impossible. He did not want to be reminded of such things, not with her in such high spirits. Because it was too easy to believe that it would be something she really wanted, and just the thought of her pregnant made him sick to his gut… but it also made him want to be the one to impregnate her, which did things to him he knew he could never follow through on.

Clearing his throat some, fighting the most primal of instincts, he asked, 'Anything interesting?'

'Gibbs you have no idea, there are just so many cool things, makes me wish I had a baby,' Abby started with her usual exuberance, then having realized what she had said she quickly countered, 'Not that there's a chance of that, because I would first have to, you know, find a suitable father, and then…'

'I get the picture Abbs,' Gibbs gruffly replied, firming his stance.

'Oh, you've gotta see this. I ran photos of Hailey and her husband Marc through this program, and this is what their baby would look like.' Gibbs looked at the image of the baby, tilting his head slightly, then tuned his attention to her when she asked, 'So what brings you down here? We got another case?'

'No I just came to see what you are up to,' he deadpanned, indicating to the Caff-Pow, 'Thought you could do with a drink.'

'Ah, the others working hard at being good,' Abby playfully replied, then closed the image on the screen before turning her attention back to the previous screen. She studied the baby clothes displayed on it, before speaking, 'Maybe I should get a life size baby doll or something. Then I could dress it in all different kinds of clothes. I'm almost envious of Hailey, because she'll actually get to do that.'

Gibbs swallowed at that, not liking the way her thoughts were travelling along. He had seen many women suddenly turn broody, and actively seeking out partners who had the same interests. He knew that that particular instinct was stronger than any other: that it was almost unstoppable when it took hold of a woman. He did not think he would be able to handle it if Abby suddenly decided it was time: that she too wanted a baby. Because he knew she was good enough at manipulating DiNozzo into agreeing to things, that she could get him to…. And he could not imagine her being pregnant with another man's child, especially not one who did not love her the way she deserved to be loved. That was just too much.

'I'll leave you to it Abbs,' he gruffly replied, turning from her, a heavy sensation settled over his heart on leaving her lab, especially when he realized he had not gotten from her what he had set out for, but also knowing he could not go back for it now.

The elevator doors closed on their own and he leaned back against the metal wall, not having selected which floor he needed to go to: wanting a few moments to first sort through his thoughts, to regain his equilibrium that Abby seemed to knock off-kilter with such relative ease.

Abby and Babies: definitely the A and B's of the alphabet he did not feel up to contemplating, at least not when the B's were to be someone else's. The temptation, the desire to let himself go there, to reach out to her and to have it all once again; was so tempting. Not even with his other wives had he contemplated children, loosing Kelly had been too painful. But with Abby… he could see himself having kids with her, he could see himself having a second chance at happiness. If only it was him that she desired. He released a mournful sigh and pursed his lips at that, her words haunting him_: "not that there's a chance of that because I would first have to, you know, find a suitable father, and then…"_ It was the and then that got him the most, because the _"and then"_ was something he was more than willing to do. He would gladly volunteer to be her baby's father. And he would make certain that they shared a bed, often, whilst making it. Just the thought of her under him, wanting his seed, her body flush with desire as he pushed down onto it. He could feel his body's response at the thoughts, the mages. He allowed his mind to drift to the afterwards: how her body would ripen and swell from his love, how he would caress her abdomen as she worked on the little miracle they created together….

The elevator jolted slightly and started to ascend. _Snap out of it, Marine,_ he scolded himself, _it could never be_. _She would, in all likelihood, not even allow me close enough to impregnate her, let alone allow me to get her pregnant and share in it._ A tightening sensation gripped his heart, at the thought that she would allow Tony though, causing him to clench his fists. When the doors opened on the squad room floor, he glared at the dark haired woman who had obviously summonsed the elevator, noting how she shrank slightly under it, before stepping past her. His mood dropped even further when the man in question was once again shamelessly flirting with Ziva. He wanted to snap at him, snap at the team for his misfortune, but instead walked through the bullpen, announcing as he went, 'Going for coffee.' His gruff voice had his agents glance after him, in concern, especially since he had been in a better mood before going down to see Abby, and has never before returned in such a manner. It was usually the other way round.

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Ooh, Missy has a twinkle in her eye…


	4. Chapter 4

Title: If Only Chapter 4  
Genre: NCIS – Romance/Angst  
Pairing: Abby and Gibbs  
Rating: M.  
Timeline: None, current, whenever… It's one of those.  
Spoilers: there may be some...  
Summery: He needed to make sure she was okay with the news, that she would not do anything foolish.  
Disclaimer: It's nice borrowing someone else's toys – I'll return them, very relaxed, I promise.  
A/N: Hmm, things get interesting….  
Written: December 2012.

Language: UK English – spelling and grammar  
Word Count: 2,995

Lyrics (at the end): 7th Heaven by the Coleske Brothers – although they've gone Afrikaans, suddenly.

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Gibbs purposely strode down the hallway, his steps faltering slightly as he approached her door. _Dammit DiNozzo_, he thought as he halted at her door, for a moment contemplating turning around and returning home. He knew it was none of his business, but he could not help it, his interest in her happiness and welfare far exceeded the acceptable parameters of co-workers, it always has. Even so, he knew that if he turned back, he would only return home to pace his basement in agitation. He was too wound up for sleep. That was how he found himself there in the first place.

He had showered and gotten ready for bed, then had settled on his couch intent on catching at least a few hours of sleep… However, his mind kept on churning around the earlier events of the day, and how they affected her. He had checked his phone, regularly, just in case she phoned him, needing an ear, but she had not, and he was not certain if she was okay, he knew he was not… why did they have to do it that way?

_Earlier, much earlier, Tony had called everyone together, and from his behaviour Gibbs knew that something was up, although he already had a good idea of the possible reason why they were all summonsed. _

He had watched as Abby took up her usual place between his and McGee's desks, with all of them patiently waiting for Tony to make his announcement: never before has words hit him as hard as they had when Tony informed everyone that he and Ziva were engaged. His gaze had immediately shifted to Abby: who had been her cheerful self, bouncing to hug both them in jubilation. Her behaviour had almost been indicative that they had possibly forewarned her of the news, because he could not distinguish any torment or anguish from her. He had noticed her glance in his direction, almost as thought she had thought he would object – possibly hoping for it? However, the selfish, possessive side of him would not allow for it. Tony's news, and his relationship with Ziva, firmly took the man out of contention for Abby's attentions. So, he had congratulated them, not that he had been surprised as he had for weeks already suspected something between the two of them: he just had not realized that things had moved that quickly. But then, he also understood it: when it's the right woman you just leap, you don't give her the opportunity to get away… unless she is younger than you, and capable of crushing you with a word, and her personality and friendship makes it very difficult to push for more – because you cannot afford to damage or possibly loose it.

He stood staring at her door. The absence of her call had finally driven him to her door. He was going to check up on her as he had planned to, and if she was okay, he would return home to the comfort of his couch.

He lifted his hand and knocked, only belatedly realizing that he had to ring the bell. He checked his watch, noting it was just past midnight: thinking she would either be home, sleeping, or out partying it off – in an attempt to forget. His heart quickened at the realization that she also could have gone to his house in the mean time, and he was not there: she had come to him in the past with her relationship troubles, therefore it was somehow to be expected that she would come to him with this… wasn't it?

When she opened the door, his heart dropped to his shoes at the sight of her. His hands clenched into fists as he took in her appearance: her ruffled hair and slightly flushed skin were indicative enough that she had found her own way of coping with the situation. A way that drove a knife straight through his heart, as he registered the scent of her arousal: it called to him. He could feel the frown form on his forehead as he tried to regain his equilibrium. The fact that she had found someone else to help her cope with it, in such a way, cut him deeper than it should have, because she was not his, and he had no claim to her.

'Gibbs?' she huskily asked, her voice thick, sleepy. It held a tone of disbelief. Her head tilted slightly, before her mind kicked into gear. 'Oh God! My phone. Where did I put it?' she said turning to look towards her lounge, before hastily adding, 'I'm so sorry, Gibbs. I know I should always be reachable. Give me a minute and I'll be ready to go,' she replied before turning, from him leaving the door open so he could enter.

Gibbs stepped into her apartment, glancing about, before asking the most prominent question on his mind, 'Ya alone, Abbs?'

'Yeah,' she replied nodding her head slightly as she continued to move along the short passage.

Her reply did little to quell his discord, because all to quickly the reason behind her appearance became obvious, and the thought that she could be dreaming of DiNozzo, when the man was enamoured with his partner, did not sit well with him.

Gibbs closed the door behind him, and followed her down the short passage.

'So what have we got? A dead sailor? Marine?' Abby called from her room, the shuffling sounds indicative that she was moving about within it.

Her question halted him for a moment, and it irked him that she thought that was the only reason he would be there. He continued along the corridor and noticed the light on in the spare bedroom, and chanced a glance inside, noting the rumpled sheets and asking 'You sleeping in your spare room?' before he had time to halt the thought.

'Darn! I left them in the dryer,' Abby pronounced, before appearing in her bedroom doorway, answering, 'Yeah, I tend to toss quite a bit some nights, and I was banging the sides of my coffin and getting bruised,' as she moved past him.

He watched her pass, perplexed by the sincerity of her answer, and waited for her to return, with a pair of stripy socks in her hands.

'Abby, wait!' he said reaching for her arm as she moved past him.

'What, I need to get ready, Gibbs,' she replied the momentum turning her towards him.

He gripped her by the shoulders, before shaking his head, affirming, 'No ya don't.'

'But you're here,' she started, before adding, 'So we've got a case.'

Gibbs only shook his head.

Her brow furrowed and her head tilted slightly, before asking, 'Then why are you here?' her voice conveying her confusion.

Gibbs looked at her, and her lips parted slightly under his gaze. The action was invitation enough as he reached to cup her face, professing huskily, 'to make you forget,' before drawing her closer: his lips for the first time making contact with hers, sending tingles across his body as he pulled her closer.

He had not thought anything through. Not how she would react to his kiss, or the sudden invasion of her privacy, or the fact that he had no intention of stopping once he had started. She opened for him, with minimal coaxing, and within a heartbeat, what had been meant as an explorative kiss on the lips morphed into an all out feeding frenzy.

His other arm slinked round her, pulling her closer, as his one hand moved to the back of her head, holding her in place as he explored her mouth. He knew that he should pull back, that he should stop it whilst he still had some semblance of control over his actions. He had only wanted her to know that there were other men who desire her, but he couldn't stop, his body would not stop, would not heed the warnings his brain kept sending.

For so long already he has longed to know her passion, wanted to be in the position where he could bask in it. He nipped at her lips when his need for oxygen became too great, working his way along her jaw and neck. He expected her to push him away, to stop him, but instead her head fell back offering him unrestricted access to her neck as her fingers treaded through his hair, holding him to her, encouraging more. A low moan escaped her lips, sending tremors right through his body. His hands started roaming, brushing over her body, moulding her to him, like he has wanted to for so long already.

Her body pushed against his as he brushed kisses down her neck. He felt the low moan she uttered under his lips, her trembling spurring him on as he lost all means of rational thought. His hands started tugging at her pyjamas, pulling and tugging them out of the way, wanting unrestricted access to her skin.

His fingers caressed the soft skin of her back as he worked the top up, not having the patience to bother with undoing the buttons. Her instinctively started tugging at his clothes in response, grunting in frustration when they defied her.

He pulled her into the room with him, no longer thinking of consequences or that he could be serving as a replacement. The only thing that mattered was that it was her, and she was responding to him in the way he has always wanted her to. He tugged at his own clothes, pulling them from his body as his lips continued to worship hers. He will give her what she dreams of: the words in her journal were still deeply imprinted on his mind. All he had wanted was an opportunity, a chance to show her that he could be that for her, and he was not going to back off, The only thing preventing it was his clothes, which suddenly seemed to small as he tried to shrug out of them. He finally managed to shed most of them, her hands brushing over his chest and the dusting of hair there. He grunted in frustration when he had to let-up for a moment, to rid himself of his shoes. He kicked of his jeans and boxers at the same moment, before guiding her down onto the bed, and had barely settled on it when she gripped him, and pulled him over her… He wanted to explore, but her frustrated moan had him comply, as he checked her. Her hips bucked up to meet his hand, grinding, seeking more.

There was nothing that could have stopped him then, he moved, lined them up and pushed forward… growling possessively as her warmth surrounded him. Her legs pulled up next to him the deeper he went, a low moan escaping her lips as he came to rest inside her depths. He instinctively thrust against her to get deeper still, his body responding to her unspoken demands. Grunting as he tried to get further up her, because there just seemed no way he would ever get deep enough into her, that it would even be enough to convey how badly he has wanted this with her. He jerked against her, hard. His hips jolted against hers, drawing a guttural grunt from her. Her hands reached down to his hips, gripping them, pulling them to her as her hips pushed up to meet his.

'More, Gibbs,' she moaned as he rocked against her.

'I'm trying, Abbs,' he grunted into her neck, the sensations overwhelming. His need to mate, to imprint on her that she was his, that he was going to make her scream his name in pleasure, that there would be no other after this, took hold. He started rolling his hips, grunting as he pushed fully into her, eliciting countering grunts from her. His body instantly adjusted, determined to drive more of them out of her, to have her cling to him in need. He would show her there are others who would be happy to love her, wanted to love her, that all she had to do was give him the chance to.

A high-pitched wail escaped her, jolting him back slightly, thinking he had hurt her. He pulled back slightly, only to see her eyes roll back, her chest lifting up, pushing against his as her head pushed back. Her lips parted, gasping, grunting as her body gripped him, tightly, causing him to hiss in response. He watched her go over, his body automatically pushing against her pulses. His heart swelled when she voiced her pleasure, his chest swelling with pride that he could do that to her.

Her body slacked, dropping to the mattress, totally lax. And he stopped moving, content to simply look at her in her post-coital bliss. A lazy, content smile crossed her face, and her eyes fluttered open. Their dreamy expression filled him with a sense of achievement he never thought he would experience again. The next moment, a frown creased her forehead, as she huskily, unbelievably, spoke up, 'You're still here.'

'Not planin' on goin' anywhere, Abbs,' he replied, brushing the strands of dark hair from her face, adding, 'I ain't done yet, either.' as he pushed his hips into her. The action alerting her to the fact that he was still fully aroused.

'Encore,' she gasped in response.

'Ugh-uh,' he grunted as he slowly rocked against her, her arms coming round him as his forehead came to rest against hers.

'So long,' he gasped, 'So long I've wanted this,' he grunted as he started thrusting stronger into her, 'God you feel good. Shouldn't have waited. Should've taken sooner.'

He again started bucking against her, gasping, 'Need more, Abbs, need to…' he moaned as his body started picking up pace.

'Take, Gibbs,' she hummed in response, her hands already gripping his hips, her legs wrapping around him as he jolted against her, grunting in effort.

'Wanna cum,' he gasped.

'Cum, Gibbs, let go,' Abby grunted in return.

'Inside,' he grunted.

'Cum,' Abby gasped, gripping his buttocks more, adding 'want it.'

His head dropped to next to hers as he grunted with every stroke, his body already tingling, his pace relentless but he held on, finally pushing up onto his arms. Her hands gripped his hips in response to his sudden action, gasping, 'No, want it,' pushing her hips up to meet his in response.

'Gonna, give it to you, Abbs,' he grunted and his body started jerking, jolting against hers.

'Now, Gibbs, please!'

He slammed down, hard. His head pulling back as he grunted, 'Abbs,' hissing, 'It's yours!' His back suddenly basculing in his attempt to get deeper still, his body bucking against hers in time with the pulses.

The last pulse had not even rocked through him, when his arms started trembling. His body lowered onto hers, right into her embrace, as he kissed along her neck. His hand reaching down to her hip, holding onto it, ensuring their connection remained, whilst he regained his breath.

There weren't words enough to express the feelings that filled him, only that he needed some time to process them.

He pulled her with him, wrapping his arms around her as he settled on his back. Content to just hold her and bask in the afterglow of the experience. His eyes drifting shut in bliss, as his breathing settled.

The silence between them became laden as their bodies cooled. There were so many things he knew needed addressing, which was also why he knew his actions had been, heedless, imprudent even, and that he had in all likelihood taken advantage of the situation…but he did not feel sorry, could not regret it, not even for a moment. There was no way he could ever put to words what he had just experienced, what the sight of her under him, like that, did to him. He was already contemplating how he could make it happen again.

Abby moved, and his arm instinctively tightened around her, not wanting her to go.

'Bathroom,' she murmured, and he reluctantly released her, vowing that they would sort it out on her return, that he would make it clear that from his side it was not just a once off. However, when she did not return from the bathroom, he got concerned and started doubting if it had been such a good idea. He could smell coffee, why was she making coffee? Unless she expected him to get dressed and leave, but he did not want to leave. He got up out of bed and searched the floor for his boxers, pulling them on before going in search of her.

He found her in her kitchen, dressed in her black silk gown, staring at the cups in front of her. For all looking like she was in shock, her body ridged. He moved up behind him, the smell of her, of their loving, intoxicating. His arms went round her waist as he nuzzled her neck, before gently murmuring, 'Leave the coffee.'

She jolted slightly, before answering, 'But… I thought … you like coffee.'

He pulled her closer, before huskily whispering, 'I'd like it more if you to came back to bed.'

'You don't want coffee?' she asked, confused, her shoulders sagging slightly.

'Later, it's only gonna keep you up. Come back to bed, you need your sleep,' he replied, drawing her with him.

Abby allowed him to lead her back to bed, watching as he turned out the lights, before murmuring, 'you're staying?'

'Not going anywhere, Abbs,' he huskily replied, pulling her closer, 'Don't want to.'

He felt her whole body sag against him at that, and guided her to the bed. Smiling slightly as her face flushed slightly at the sheets' disarray, and tucked her between them.

He settled behind her, and she reached to turn out the light before settling into his embrace. His hand drew patterns along her arm, before moving around her, pulling her firmly against him, his lips caressing her shoulder, murmuring, 'Sleep, Abbs.'

'Night, Gibbs.'

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"Gee my al jou drome, want jy weet ek sal did veilig hou,

Vergeet van alles wat you pla, hierdie hande sal jou dra."

7de Hemel deur die Coleske Broers

And for those of you who don't understand Afrikaans, the context translation,

Give me all your dreams, because you know I will keep them safe,

Forget all your troubles, these hands will carry you.

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The words are very appropriate for these two


	5. Chapter 5

Title: If Only Chapter 5  
Genre: NCIS – Romance/Angst  
Pairing: Abby and Gibbs  
Rating: M.  
Timeline: None, current, whenever… It's one of those.  
Spoilers: There may be some...  
Summery: Some things need not be as complicated as they seem.  
Disclaimer: It's nice borrowing someone else's toys – I'll return them, very relaxed, I promise.  
A/N: Missy had the heart but not the time….  
Written: January – February 2013  
Language: UK/International/Commonwealth English.  
Word Count: 2,371

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Abby woke the following morning to a gentle caress along her arm. Her lips curved into a smile as she inhaled in the seemingly familiar scent, making her feel giddy with happiness. The scent was a bit more musky, less Old Spice, but definitely one she could identify anywhere. She snuggled into the soft pillow under her head, which felt surprisingly warm and unyielding... She has had this dream so many times already that it was easy to submerge herself to the illusion of it. She could happily remain trapped within it for as long as she could hold onto it: for soon enough reality inevitably came crashing down on her, and the soft body next to her will turn into a pillow; the soft caress along her arm, her sheets brushing her skin as she moved. Yet the illusion sustained her when things became daunting, when the world just seemed all wrong, and the only thing she could depend on was his strength.

Abby softly grunted as she shifted her legs. The pleasurable twinge between her thighs was a gratifying reminder that she had received some arduous attention the night before: it had been a while.

Her entire body stiffened at that thought, as she tried to remember what had happened. Especially since the illusory body she thought she was laying next to felt surprisingly real, complete with arms that tightened around her when she tried to move from it.

Her heart pounded in her chest as the terror of the moment overwhelmed her. She had long since stopped bringing men home: one could only handle so many wacko's in one's life, and seeing as no man had ever managed to make her forget about the silver-haired one she wanted most of all, it had seemed rather useless in the end.

This one smelt a lot like him: maybe that was why she had been willing to take him home with her – because if she kept her eyes shut she would see Gibbs instead. The sex had to have been good, her body felt languid: then again, not so much. The patterns he was tracing along her arm caused her skin to erupt in gooseflesh: she was well on her way to being aroused again – especially with that familiar musky scent filling the air around her…

Abby fought the desire to simply let go, to let it happen: because a stranger was not supposed to do that to her, she was not supposed to react to his touch like that. She was not supposed to feel safe; she would not have fallen asleep otherwise…

She tried to remember where she had been the night before, where she may have met this stranger. However, her uncertainty intensified when she seemed unable to recall anything, she could not even remember going out. In fact, she was not even certain if she was in her apartment. Her eyes shot open, and she took in the décor of her guestroom: lit in the pale grey-light of predawn. It confirmed that she was home, but it did not confirm how the other person came to be there with her.

His arms tightened around her when she tried to pull back: wanting to get a look at who was in her bed. It could not be Gibbs: because Gibbs did not do sleepovers. Besides, it had only been a dream. It was not like it would ever come true.

'Easy Abbs,' Gibbs's familiar gruff murmur came, her body went rigid as a result, her heart thudding against her rib cage as her mind spun in disbelief.

No! not possible, It cannot be him. It would be like every birthday and Xmas present I've ever wanted in my life being given to me at once. I would have nothing to ask Santa for Christmas anymore. Oh God, had he really? That would be like every fantasy coming true at once, and yet not quite enough. No I must be dreaming, there is no way it could be Gibbs in my bed. How? When? Why? Had he? Had we? Oh god this is just too much, Had it really been that good? Would he want to again? Is he dressed? He doesn't feel dressed.

Her one hand moved from where it had rested over his heart, and slid down his abdomen, felling warm flesh as far as it travelled, not a stitch of clothing obscuring its path. His one hand shot down to capture hers, pushing it further down until it came into contact with his engorged manhood. It was already hard, firmly pressing against her hand. _Oh God! Gibbs is in my bed, naked. It's not a dream._

He released a low growl into her hair as her fingers wrapped around him. The heat between her thighs intensified as her body instantly flushed: instinctively softening and pressing against his.

His hips thrust up into her touch, lowly growling, 'Abbs,' as his hands zealously reached for her hips, his fingers pressing into her soft skin, pulling her closer to him.

Her leg instinctively shifted over his thighs, her hand moving from him to once again settle over his pounding heart, her fingers toying with the silver hairs there.

She lifted slightly to look at him, 'It is you,' she breathed against his lips as their eyes met. His pupils were already fully distended, his lust obviously visible in the pale light.

Her hips pressed against his, and his hands tightened their hold on them. The next moment her mind registered the sticky remnants on her inner thighs, causing her entire body to stiffen as a bolt of shock shot through it.

'Oh God' she gasped pulling back a little. The reality of their situation quickly dispersed her surreal mood as a renewed sense of panic flooded her. Gibbs's hands instinctively moved to her sides, holding her in place. 'Last night…we…' her voice conveyed her panic, and she saw a deep frown appear on Gibbs's brow.

'Ugh-uh,' Gibbs guardedly replied. She saw him visibly withdraw from her as his guard rose.

'You… we… we didn't… oh God!… Gibbs, I'm not on anything!' Abby finally managed to blunder out. Then tried to pull away from him. However, his response was instant, holding her closer as an impish smile crossed his face. It did nothing to quell her panic. Okay yes she had thought of it, thought of what it would be like to have his baby, but she did not want it like that, unplanned, with him probably not wanting it.

'It's okay, Abbs.' He calmly husked. His words drew her attention from her thoughts, causing her to look at him, to gauge his response. It was not what she'd expected, not after being told that he may have unwittingly fathered a child. Most men would have flown out of bed with some accusation of entrapment… but not him, not Gibbs. He calmly lay there, appearing for all quite content with the world.

That's when it the realization struck her, and her mind settled on the only possible, logical reason for his response. Her eyes dropped to his chest. Her panic was instantly replaced by a dull ache in her heart, as a heavy weight seemed to press down on her. Although she had not wanted an unplanned baby, the realization that she would never carry his child hurt more. A tightening sensation settled around her chest, which made it hard to breathe.

She faintly nodded her head and dejectedly answered, 'It kinda makes sense why there are no little Gibbs's running around.' She halted for a moment, visibly swallowing, before adding, 'especially after four marriages.'

She again tried to pull away from him, needing to process what she had learnt, but he would not let go of her.

Her gaze remained on his chest, where her fingers had splayed over the silver hair there, before she once again stumbled over her words, mumbling, 'I never really thought of it…. that you could have… I mean, fixed?'

She once again grew quiet: failing to understand how she could morn something she possibly never would have had in the first place.

Gibbs reached for the hand on his chest then rolled them until he came to settle over her. His fully aroused body pushed against hers, however the frown had remained on his brow as he gazed down at her. 'It's not what I said, Abbs.' He replied in his husky voice. The one that did all kinds of weird things to her innards, which she still could not describe.

His words had her look at him in confusion. 'What then?' she asked tilting her head slightly.

He lowered himself, and her body automatically shifted to accommodate his, before he whispered into her ear, 'It means I wouldn't mind putting one in ya.'

His other hand tugged at her one thigh, as she gasped in response to his works. Their meaning caused her body to erupt in tingles.

His hips pushed forward, and his manhood easily slid into her, 'Ya mine Abbs, gonna fill ya.' He growled lowly, causing her to grunt in reply, her body tingling as he started to move. Her hands clasped at his hips, pulling him in. How got her hot, so quickly, she did not want to contemplate, the only thing that mattered was the moment.

'Make a baby with me Abbs,' he husked as his arms went round her, his body pushing more insistently against hers.

Her own arms instinctively wrapped round him, pulling him closer. Throbbing sensations flowed through her body with his every thrust, and had her mewling his name.

She knew they should think about it first, about the implications of their actions, they were adults. But at that moment, the feel of him moving inside her, filling her, stretching her, and the knowledge that he desired her, wanted to make a baby with her, something he had not done with the others: possibly not wanted with them, made her giddy: more so than the pleasure his movements evoked in her. She wanted it, wanted him…

It felt too perfect, too much like a dream, too much to be real. Her body stiffened under him. No longer moving with him. Gibbs immediately responded, his body rocking to a halt as he lifted from her. His gaze locked with hers as he grunted, 'What's up Abbs?'

'It's too much,' Abby moaned.

A frown appeared on his forehead as his hips pushed into her again, grunting, 'What, this?'

'Abby shook her head before murmuring, 'It's too perfect.'

Gibbs lowered himself onto her again, his arms once again wrapping around her, barely moving inside her, before whispering huskily into her ear, 'It's whatever you want it to be Abbs, as long as you're happy.'

Again he pushed into her, mumbling huskily, 'I'll stop if you want me to.'

Abby's arms tightened around him, her barely audible gasp of, 'no' was all the answer he needed.

'Let go Abbs, I've got you, won't let anything bad happen to you.' He professed moving slowly over her.

'I know,' Abby gasped, as the pulsing sensations returned, his movements steady.

'Just feel, Abbs. I'll do the rest,' he husked, kissing the skin along her neck. 'Wanna make you cum.'

'Gibbs,' she moaned, her arms tightening around him. Her body bracing to meet him

'Yes Abbs?' he grunted into her ear.

'More…please more…need more.' she moaned, her hands suddenly shifting, clawing at his hips, her legs drawing up widening in invitation.

A low, primitive growl was the only reply she got as he braced himself on his elbows, altering the pace, lunging into her.

'That's…so…good.' She cooed as her body pushed up to meet his.

He steadily increased the pace, until Abby could was incapable of making any coherent sounds. Until her body became a bundle of sensations: incapable of focusing on anything other than where he was moving within her. The pleasure those movements gave her, and her need for more. Her throat ached from grunting, her fingers bit into his back, her body tense under his. She felt tight, full, yet wanting, needing at the same time. The sensations tightened, sharpened, until everything became a blur, her body contorted, before throbbing, shuddering in pleasure.

She clung to him as she verbalized the pleasure: barely registering his grunts of satisfaction, as he rutted against her a few more times, then felt his essence merge with hers.

There bodies slowed, as their hearts pounded against one another. Both gasped for breath as the clung together. A slight sheen of perspiration covered their bodies, as they finally came to rest.

Gibbs braced himself on his elbows as he looked at her. He brushed a damp tendril from her forehead causing her to smile lazily at him. Her body felt replete, languid as she slowly moved her hands along his back.

He shifted and pushed their pelvises together, firmly, before possessively growling, 'Mine.' He closed the small distance between them, brushing her lips with his, gently coaxing a response from her. The tenderness of his actions caused the muscles in the lower half of her abdomen to contract around his receding manhood.

When their lips parted, she moved slightly. An action that caused him to grunt in reply, 'Not yet,' as his forehead came to rest against hers, adding, 'need to keep you like this.'

Abby, ran her hands up his back, smiling as she teased, 'I'm sure your little marines know their way about.' Her mood soared when one of his all too rare smiles erupted across his face, and he replied, 'Want to give them all a fighting chance.' Then dropped his voice and husked, 'Once they're done, I'm gonna drag you up the isle.'

Abby stiffened at that, then answered, 'you don't have to, Gibbs.'

'It's not have to, it's want to, Abbs.' He replied as he finally shifted from her, pulling her with him as he settled, adding, 'My baby, my name.'

'You sure about this Gibbs? You don't want someone more…' Abby trailed off not certain how to phrase it.

'Got everything I need Abbs,' he replied, hugging her to him, adding, 'only regret the time wasted.'

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Ah sweet… don't get too comfy, Missy has plans for them.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: If Only Chapter 6  
Genre: NCIS – Romance/Angst  
Pairing: Abby and Gibbs  
Rating: M – take it serious.  
Timeline: None, current, whenever… It's one of those.  
Spoilers: None  
Summery: Sometimes the simplest pleasures are one's greatest treasure (Missy has had too much purified water again…).  
Disclaimer: It's nice borrowing someone else's toys – I'll return them, very relaxed, I promise.  
A/N: Missy had the heart but, alas, not the time….  
Written: March 2013 – late one evening, when Missy wouldn't let me sleep: she insisted that it had to come out, NOW!  
Language: UK/International/Commonwealth English.  
Word Count: 1,872

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In the two weeks that followed, Gibbs developed a new fascination: Abby's skin. It drew him, enthralled him, and beckoned him to touch it. He could devote hours to it, brushing it, stroking it, like a craftsman would caress a quality piece of Birch wood or Croth Flame, waiting for it to tell him how it should be shaped and moulded, what it needed to come to life. That was how he caressed her skin, waiting for it to talk to him as he traced the inked lines and watched as the hairs rose to his touch and gooseflesh would follow in its wake. And when he was not touching her, just the thought of touching her could bring a smile to his lips.

Her skin had become like a drug, and after years of restraining his desire to touch her, he felt like a junkie at a free for all drug party. Not an evening passed, no matter how late they finished work, that he did not drag her home, be it his place or hers, only to strip her down and indulge.

At first, she had been uncertain, hesitant even… because his desire to get her out of her clothes was all consuming, but only until the last piece of their underwear had hit the floor. After that, he would slow it right down, happy to indulge in the softness of her skin, the warmth of her body, and her smell. But touches alone were also never enough, he had to taste, kiss and arouse her.

At first, she had tried to hurry him along, urging him to move faster…. However, it had only taken a few times for her to realize that his need to rid her of her clothes had noting to do with his need for sex, not that that was a problem, but that he needed unrestricted contact with her skin, that it somehow appeased him. She came to understand his need to touch her, to brush her skin and breathe in the changes in her scent as she became aroused, ready for his loving. At times, his need bordered on violence, and he stroked her skin, her body, harder; wanting to merge his skin with hers: because it felt like the only way he could ever get close enough to her. These occasions all too often coincided with the times when a case had struck too close to home, when he had to reassess things: when she became his haven and preserved his sanity….

Neither of them had broached the subject of that first night, how it came to be, the things that had been said or those that have happened since. They had simply chosen to embrace them, and to see where it led them.

Their evenings inevitably ended up with him buried deep inside her, once his need to join with her became too overwhelming. She had quickly leant what he needed, and she had willingly accepted his attentions: she would allow him the simple pleasure of touching her, loving her at his own pace. Letting him lose himself in her: allowing the feelings that coursed through him, when they were together like that, to flow unchecked. She was more addictive than any drug known to man.

It was one of those nights: when he deeply breathed her in as their bodies joined, with his manhood nestled safely in her warmth. His arms wrapped around her as he basked in the moment, the sensations. They never seemed to last long enough for him, his desire to actually melt into her, to literally to get into her skin with her, always remained.

He felt her hands soothe over his back, just as her one foot brushed along his calve.

'Jethro,' her low, husky whisper came, and he could not suppress the trill that ran along his spine, or the way his heart seemed to swell, to beat a little faster at it. She knew all too well how it affected him, knew that his reaction would be predictable: that his body would contract, pushing his hips down against hers. His chest swelled with pride when an encouraging moan slipped from her lips. It seemed almost impossible that they had denied themselves it for as long.

He lifted off her slightly, their gazes merging as his hips drew back, her silent request answered with a slight nod, before he moved.

She gripped his hips, holding him in place as he rolled them: he did not feel the imminent need for paced loving, but Abby loved to ride him, and he would let her, whenever and however she choose to.

He loved to watch her: for she was utterly unreserved and unguarded when they were together like that. She took her pleasure, giving him so much more in return.

It had at first worried his gut: because he knew women, knew when they held back, and he could not believe that she would be as open, as vulnerable to anyone – given what he thought he had known at the time…

But that had only been until he had figured it out: and that had not taken much effort either. For it had been the little things she had let slip, her hushed requests for certain things when they made love, mostly kissing and touching. Her pure and unguarded responses to him, and her soft whispers, had within the first few days, firmly avowed that it had not been DiNozzo in her dreams… but him. Her moans, from the first night, had always been some manner or expression of either Gibbs or Jethro: but it was the latter, that told him when she needed more.

He settled on his back, and within a heartbeat, she had pushed down against him and lifted from him. Their eyes met, and his hands ran up her thighs as she settled fully onto him.

Her hands moved down to meet his, their fingers interlacing a scant moment before her body started moving. He watched as she moved over him, the sensations coinciding with her core gripping and releasing him. Causing his eyes to roll back in his head: she didn't need to, just being allowed inside her was at times enough, but when she milked him like that, with her body tugging on his, he could not explain the surreal sensations that overcame him. Their hands parted, hers landing on his chest, his on her hips: not to guide but simply to touch, to hold onto her.

She started to grind against him, and he knew she was close: he had leant so much about her, what pleasured her, simply from watching her. Her head fell back as a moan escaped her lips. Her breasts bounced slightly as she moved, and he reached up to cup their fullness, their soft weight supported by his palm as his thumbs grazed over the hardened nipples. The though of a child, their child, one day suckling on them, of her nurturing it, saw his need to taste her, to draw those taught nipples into him mouth become overwhelming: it was something they had not discussed since that first morning, yet neither had made any attempt since to prevent it.

He suddenly sat up, guiding one into his mouth before she had time to object his movement. The unique taste of her skin made him greedy for more, and his tongue wrapped around it as a baby's would, before suckling.

He heard her surprised gasp, felt her core convulse around him. She has always been sensitive like that. Her fingers threaded through his hair as he continued to suckle. Her back arched, giving him full access as his hands pushed against her back to hold her in place. He changed over to the other while her body rocked gently over his. He pulled back to look at her, her green eyes glazed by passion, her desire for him fully revealed.

'Abbs,' he husked, pulling her closer and claiming her mouth. His arms tightened around her as he started to turn them over, wanting to take charge again. His hips pulsed against hers as they sorted out their limbs, his lips maintaining their claim on hers. He braced himself over her, lifting off her slightly as his hips started throbbing against hers, their movement quickly transformed into thrusts, with both of them gasping for breath.

'Abby,' he moaned, his forehead resting against hers.

Her hands brushed up his back, her answer consisting out of loud moans.

'Abbs,' his voice held an edge of urgency to it.

'Yes, Gibbs?' she moaned between strokes.

'I want a baby,' he husked between thrusts.

Her hands moved over his back, and then suddenly her entire body stiffened. Her response, and lack of an answer, instantly rendered his body rigid. He pulled back to look at her, worried when she pinched her lips together with her one hand lightly resting against his hip.

'Abbs?' He gruffly but firmly spoke, 'What ya not telling me?'

He watched her swallow, her eyes shifting from his, causing an ache to settle over his heart. She cleared her throat and hoarsely whispered, 'There may already be one.'

'You're….' He felt a surge of joy shoot through him, his heart racing anew.

She hesitantly replied, 'I'm not sure, I mean I'm late, but I haven't taken a test or anything.'

'Why not?' he urged.

'Because I didn't want to jinx it, and it's only a few days, besides I wasn't sure if you would still wanted…'

'That I still wanted what, Abbs?'

'The baby.'

Gibbs just looked at her in shock, feeling unable to understand how she could think of such a thing. 'Abbs,' he replied, pulling her closer, 'every night, and ya think I wouldn't want a baby?' His hips pushed into her, slowly, repetitively.

'A baby is a big responsibility, Gibbs.' Abby said, running her hands down his back, her fingers flexing against his hips as her hips rose to meet him.

'I know,' he replied speeding up his movements a bit, 'one I want with you, Abbs.'

'Oh, god, Gibbs, we're not gonna stop doing this now…' she started; only to have him push harder into her, momentarily robbing her of her ability to speak.

'Doing, what, Abbs?' he grunted between thrusts.

'This,' she replied, tightening her core closing around his, her hands gripping his hips their clasps telling him what she needed, 'just because I'm…'

'Have to die before I stop, Abbs.' He grunted into her ear. Then picked up their familiar pace, with both of them soon writhing in pleasure: gasping, groaning, with their bodies shifting to allow for more contact, then clutching, straining.

'Jethro, close.' She gasped, her fingers tips biting into pale flesh of his hips.

'I got ya, Abbs,' he grunted in encouragement, his movements unrelenting.

'Closer,' she squeaked in warning, and he altered his trusts, just the way she liked it.

Her body suddenly bowed under his, and he growled, 'That's my girl, give it to me.' whilst thrusting faster.

'Oh god, Gibbs, gonna, gonna, ugh Gibbs!' she wailed beneath him, a sound that tugged every heartstring he owned, one he could never get enough of.

His eyes closed as her body tugged on him, dropping his head to rest on the pillow next to hers his back bascule as he thrust into her a few more times, and finally tightened and stilled over hers: his feral grunt coinciding with his release deep inside her.

'Thanks Abbs,' he murmured, moments before rolling and pulling her with him. His need to hold her afterwards was just as resolute as his need to touch her.

'Anytime, Gibbs,' she murmured in reply, after they had settled and sorted out their limbs.

'No, I meant this,' he said as his hand came to rest over her abdomen.

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	7. Chapter 7

Title: If Only Chapter 7  
Genre: NCIS – Romance/Angst  
Pairing: Abby and Gibbs  
Rating: M – take it serious.  
Timeline: None, current, whenever… It's one of those. A/U.  
Spoilers: None  
Summary: Even his wildest fantasies had not come close.  
Disclaimer: It's nice borrowing someone else's toys – I'll return them, very relaxed, I promise.  
A/N: Missy has the heart but, alas, not the time….  
Written: March 2013  
Proofed: End June 2013 – yeah, I know, toss the rotten fruit. I just didn't have the time.  
Language: International English.  
Word Count:4,367

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Gibbs checked his watch for possibly the hundredth time that morning as they moved around the crime scene. It was the last place on earth he wanted to be at that moment. Having already snapped at DiNozzo for clowning around, had his team members steering well clear of him, it had also stopped their bantering; especially since he had almost snapped at Ziva when she had commented that he was like a bear with a sore paw.

The callout had come through at the most inopportune of moments, and he again checked his watch, clenching his jaw some. He was tempted to tell DiNozzo to take over, however knew that even at his most daring, he would not make it in time; between the distance and traffic he would not make it, fast driving or not. Therefore, he simply bit the bullet and turned his attention to the scene that needed processing, pointing his team members in various directions.

Once they had gathered up all the evidence, and piled into the truck, his team members all scampered aboard, obviously not wanting to chance his mood, or the reason behind it. Tony and Ziva he could understand, however the fact that McGee was strangely willing to be the third wheel on their bicycle was indication enough that he was unordinary grumpy, but he could not help it.

On their return to the squad-room, everyone immediately went about their various tasks. McGee placed the box of evidence on his desk, stepping around it to check something on his computer, before announcing that he was heading down to the lab to take the evidence to Abby. Gibbs was just about to tell him that Abby was not in the lab when the mistress herself strolled into the bullpen, with an evident bounce to her stride.

McGee looked at her with a perplexed expression on his face, especially since she did not have her lab coat on, "You're not working today?" he finally asked.

"Oh, yes, I'm on my way down now, I first had something else to see to," Abby replied, her gaze meeting Gibbs's, the brightness in her eyes confirming what he had been anticipating the entire morning.

"Well there is nothing mysterious or dark around the mistress this morning," Tony chirped, "You're glowing girl, what's his name?"

Ziva tilted her head slightly before adding, "You know I think you are right Tony, there is a different bearing to her."

"It's air," Tony corrected

"Whatever," Ziva dismissed it, "you know what I mean."

Abby beamed in response, looking about ready to burst out of her skin.

"Whatever you have been up to has certainly made you happy," Ziva warmly replied.

"So where have you been?" Tony demanded, "I want to send Ziva."

"I've been to the doctor's." Abby happily replied.

"I thought that was reason for concern," McGee said as he lifted the box of evidence.

"Well it depends on the reason you're going for," Abby quickly countered.

"Okay mistress, hit us with it," Tony said, pulling himself up to his full height, indicating with his hand that he's ready to take what she's got. "What's up with you? Because there is definitely nothing wrong with you."

Abby looked at everyone in the bullpen, and held Gibbs's gaze for a moment, before she spoke, "I'm pregnant."

Gibbs tried really hard to hide the grin on his face, especially at Tony's expression. It was indescribable, something between outright shock and utter disbelief, almost as if Abby had just told him he's the father.

McGee's head snapped round to look at her, his grip on the box of evidence loosened, allowing it to drop back onto his desk. "What!" he squawked in disbelief.

Tony still turned to look at him and started, "Well done probie, I knew…" But halted mid-sentence when he saw the shock on McGee's face, and quickly countered, "Not yours then." He turned to look at Abby and demanded, "If not him, who?" and then sternly added, "What have you been up to while we haven't been watching?"

"Are you sure?" Ziva asked, also in shock.

Abby just nodded her head in in reply, her happiness bubbling from her.

"Well if it's not probie, who's the father, I demand to know who he is!" Tony firmly reiterated, adding, "There are background checks to be done, interviews to be scheduled…"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs firmly spoke up.

"Sorry Boss," Tony quickly replied, before once again rambling, "But I just want to make sure the guy is okay, we'll let you at him first…"

"He's great Tony, really, you don't have to worry," Abby cut him short. "He'd have to be for me to want his baby."

"So you love him?" Ziva was quick to ask, "This was not…an accident?"

"No, well maybe, we haven't been together all that long, but you have no idea how much I love him, and he's really great you guys don't need to worry about a thing," Abby replied her voice softening as she spoke.

Gibbs was relieved that the others had not looked in his direction, for his response to the news, for he was certain they would have noticed the way his chest had filled with pride. He was happy that she had decided to keep things between them just that, between them, for he was uncertain whether he wanted to share what they had with others yet; beyond the fact that he had absolutely no idea how to break the news to them. However, he knew that Tony would be at it like a hound after blood, and that it would only be a matter of time before his curiosity got the better of him.

His gaze moved to McGee, who had once again collected up the box of evidence, and he noticed the man's discomfort as he shuffled stiffly around his desk before moving away from them, preceding Abby to the lab.

Gibbs had known that the younger agent would not take the news well, it had been one of his concerns earlier the morning, he had however reasoned that the boy had had his chance, and that if it had not worked out between Abby and McGee it was not for him to brood over it.

"Then I am happy for you," Ziva proclaimed, stepping around her desk to hug Abby.

"I don't know," Tony started, uncertainly, "I still say we should check up on the guy," and looked towards Gibbs, "can't take a chance with her, Boss."

Gibbs looked towards Abby, "Abbs, you want us to check him out?"

Abby shook her head, "No, I've done all the checking there needs to be done," she replied smiling happily.

"I don't like this," Tony muttered, "It's too sudden."

"Tony," Ziva scolded, "How would you know, were you keeping tabs again."

Tony shook his head in response, "McGee is not happy about it."

Gibbs turned to Abby, "I'll be down to see you later," and watched her go, wishing that he could hug her and share the elation he felt.

"I really thought it would be his," Tony mused.

"Tony, not everything always turns out the way we want it to."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Only that we do not always get that which we want," Ziva calmly replied, returning to her desk.

Gibbs smiled at her comment, thinking that; _sometimes we get it and a lot more than we hoped for. _

"And what is it that you want?" Tony boldly asked.

"Don't ya have anything to do?" Gibbs bit, causing both to look at him. He knew they could always pick up the conversation later, if it was important.

"On it, Boss." Tony quickly replied.

It was late, approaching midnight, the case had drug on for days, and he was finally ready to call it a day. Abby had left earlier, and while he had hoped to spend a relatively early evening with her, a sudden lead had held them back a few hours, and saw his plans for their evening fall through.

Having dismissed the team for the evening, he made his way home, looking forward to simply slipping between the sheets and wrapping himself around her; to breathe her in as he allowed sleep to claim him. Ever since they had taken to sharing a bed, sleep had come easier, and although he they had not moved in together, they spent very little time apart.

He knew something was off when he entered his house and it was eerily quiet, too quiet and too dark. He looked about as he entered the front door, only the kitchen light was on, casting a pale glow in the entranceway. He reached for his gun, and carefully made his way towards the kitchen.

His heart started thudding more insistently in his chest when he caught sight of a slip of paper that was placed under a cup in the center of the table, his mind already rejecting what it could mean. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, not that it helped, and moved the cup to allow him to read it, not wanting to touch the pater in case they needed to process it.

The dread that had pressed down on his chest immediately lifted, and a smile tugged at his lips when he read her familiar scrawl. Putting away his gun, he returned to the front door and locked it, before making his way to the basement. His heart thudding for a different reason altogether, wondering what surprise she had in store for him.

He got to the top of the stairs, and looked out over the area. Various projects were scattered across the floor, with several large sections of wood clamped together. He had been working on the furniture for the cabin lately, however most had been put on hold, because he intended to finish the crib and rocking chair first.

He did not see her, and he felt a frown form on his forehead, having realized that it was late and that she could have tired waiting for him and had instead gone upstairs to bed. His eyes closed at that, remembering some of the instances when his delayed return, or activities in the basement, had started arguments in the past… with his wives. He drew in a deep breath in preparation of what was to come, even though he knew that Abby understood their work, the hours, the unpredictability… Even with all that, he knew she had planned something for them and would be put out by his delayed arrival. He moved down the stairs, intent to switch off the work light that was situated above a chair, when he saw a black slip of fabric lying on top of it, with another note placed below. He carefully picked up the black pashmina, stroking the soft, silky material with his fingers as he read the note.

His fingers stooped moving as his head snapped up to scan the room, before he once again read the note. A lump immediately settled in his throat, and his heart seemed to beat just below it. Swallowing was difficult, and his mouth was parched, his tongue sticking to his pallet, it felt like he'd swallowed half of the Nevada desert.

the felt a limp form in his throat as his mouth seemed to go dry. He looked down at the black slip of fabric feeling his heart pound in his chest.

He took another deep breath, he placed the paper on the chair and started undressing, until he was down to his underwear, then reached for the black slip of fabric.

"All of it," her voice came from the one corner, and he turned in the direction her voice had come. He could just make out her dark shape, hidden within the shadows, and his body immediately responded to her presence. The realization that she had been watching him, that her fantasies always brought pleasure, saw him teasingly drop his shorts.

"Cover your eyes and sit down."

He complied, and sat down in the chair, having covered his eyes, and waited for her to start whatever she had planned for him. His body steadily heating in anticipation.

Then he heard the thudding of her boots against the concrete floor, his heart raced in anticipation at her approach, he tried to concentrate on the sound, trying to estimate how far from him she was. However, he smelt her even before she touched him, running her hand along his bicep down over his elbow and forearm to take hold of his wrist. He willingly gave her his arm, and he allowed her to pull it back, only then did he feel the cold metal slip around his wrist. For a moment, he wondered as to who had willingly lent her their cuffs again, not that he minded being cuffed to her, however he knew that his were still in his desk, at work. When she took the other hand he husked, "Abbs?"

"Welcome to my interrogation room," she whispered into his ear.

"And why am I here," he quickly asked, he could not think of anything that would make her do such a thing. She ran her fingers through his short hair, an action that always aroused him.

"You have been keeping secrets," she husked lowly, "and tonight you will tell all."

"And just how are you going to make me," he challenged in return, shifting some in the chair.

"Oh, I have my ways," she teased, "and I know how to make a certain special agent lose his sense of self."

_And that's no lie_, he though, she knew each and every button, and just how to push them as well. Her hands grazed along his thighs, her nails scraping over his skin, and within a moment he knew that it would be about pleasure, her teasing and provoking was not meant to extract his darkest secrets, yet he was uncertain as to who would enjoy it more.

"I have nothing to confess," he firmly professed, not certain what information she wanted from him.

Her hands moved down his thighs, and his legs parted on instinct for her as her hands ran up the inside of this thighs. His breath caught in anticipation. No matter how well he braced himself for her touch, it just never seemed enough. It always caught him by surprise. However, her hands diverted and moved over the tops of his thighs, and he had to bite back the moan that wanted to escape his lips. He could not see her, therefore could not gauge what she was likely to do. Her touch stopped and she lifted her hands, his body tightened in anticipation, quivered, as he listened to her movements. Her could sense her presence near him, smell her - both her scent and that of her arousal. Just the thought that the preparations alone could have gotten her as excited, that she was aroused and looking at him, had him harden, to an almost painful level.

His head instinctively tilted and pushed into her touch as her hand came to lie against his cheek.

"I see you are quite willing, Gunny," she said as her fingers traced down the side of his face, her palm for a moment rested along his jaw. Her scent grew stronger, and his heart thudded in is chest when her lips gently brushed his. He moaned as she pulled back, not having had enough. He gasped as her hand again moved down his chest, and again bypassed his throbbing manhood. His hands tightened into fists behind him, only to have a tortured groan ripped from his lips when she cupped his balls; breathing turned to panting as his body automatically shifted to allow her more access to them. She gently cupped and stroked them.

His lips pared and the air rushed out, he hissed as her hand teased his length only to again cup his balls.

"You feel ready to talk yet, Gunny?" she sternly asked, making it difficult for him to understand her detachment.

he swallowed several moments to regain his voice, and finally husked, "I don't know what you want."

Her hand moved and wrapped around his hard shaft, his body jolting slightly at the sensations.

"Well, we'll just have to see about that," she said as her grip tightened and loosened on him. Blood was rushing in his ears, and he jolted when she released him, his hips lifting from the chair, seeking her touch. He tried to focus his attention on establishing her whereabouts, focusing on the shuffling sounds her boots made. He had no idea what to expect. His training had prepared for anything an interrogator could throw at him, he would not talk under torture, pain was something he was well familiar with. But this was different, he had no idea what she wanted, and her torture, although pleasurable, was maddening in its ambiguity.

Her warm breath against his straining sex was all the warning he received, and it gave him hardly any time to prepare for what was to follow. The warm sensation of her tongue moving, stroking against it, the warm brushing sensation, caused his body to jerk. He started trembling in response. He could remember every occasion where she had gone down on him, and every time it had been a test of his resolve. His every sense centered on where she was, what she was doing, and was further sharpened by the fact that he could not see what she was doing, or what her intentions were. He nearly leapt from the chair when she took him into her mouth, his pants turned to rasping breaths from the intensity.

He tugged against the handcuffs, wanting to touch her, and swore to himself that he was gonna tie her up, soon, and torture her like that. To let her know what it felt like. His body leapt in response, and he could have sworn he swelled more, his arousal delightfully painful, as he fought against the desire to push up for more, to simply drop his guard and let her use him as she saw fit.

His breath hitched as she took as much of him into her mouth as she could, and sucked hard. A shiver ran up his body, and for a moment he seemed incapable of even breathing… then she pulled back, and he nearly lost his mind, jerking against the handcuffs, his body jerking at the sudden depravation, only to have her blow softly over his straining cock, teasing him some more, before once again flicking her tongue over his tip.

She moved from him, and his body revolted against the action, aching for hers. Just then he felt her fingers at his lips, and opened to take them in. Groaning as her taste exploded into his mouth, and again he pulled against the cuffs.

"You ready to talk yet, Gunny?" she asked, her voice not quite as distant as it had been earlier, there was an underling husk of arousal, and he took some courage in that. yet his brain seemed incapable of processing anything, other than her presence, her taste, and how desperately he wanted to be buried in her. His mind was still trying to process the question, when he felt her hand warp around him, and he grunted in approval, however was not prepared for the next onslaught of sensation as scalding warmth engulfed him, while her body straddled him, settling in his lap.

He had no idea what she wanted from him. However, willingly, handed himself over to the sensation as her inner muscles closed around him. Tingles ran up his spine and gooseflesh erupted across his skin.

He waited for her to move. Needed her to move, to ease the ache that was quickly building.

"Abby," he moaned, his voice heavy, husky, needy, when he could no longer restrain his need.

"Ready to spill yet, Gunny?" he tried not entertain the innuendo of her words, for he was more than ready to spill, but needed for her to move to accomplish that, therefore forced his mind to comply.

"What do you want to know?" he finally husked.

"Your deepest, darkest fantasy."

"Hu!" he gasped, knowing that nothing he could come up with could top hers.

He then gasped when she moved, thinking he would finally gain some relief, only to moan in objection as she lifted from him. He heard her boots move on the floor, their sound caused him to frown, however felt the blindfold being tugged from his head.

It took a moment for his eyes to accustom to the light, but when they did, he again found breathing difficult; for before him, Abby was dressed in a black corset with matching panties, representing something form his deepest darkest fantasies - he never willingly allowed himself to have. The kind of fantasies that snuck up on him when he'd been lonely, longing, and pining for the one thing he could not have; and they had kept him awake on more than one occasion.

She moved from him, moving to the opposite side of the basement. "I'll tell you one of mine," she said as she walked towards his workbench. "It involves this room… For years I dreamed, no wished, that one day, when it was just the two of us here, that you would make a move. That you would just grab me and fuck me senseless."

His body jolted at that, just the image she portrayed, stunned him, for there had been times over the years, times he'd been so tempted to do just that.

"Even if it was only once," She continued. "I wanted so badly to know what that felt like to be fucked by you, and to know that you wanted me that much. I wanted to be the one who could cause you to cast off all your restraints, to have you take me as hard and fast as you wanted." she said turning to look at him, "to take from me what you needed, but you never did."

His he was uncertain as to what he should think of that, not wanting to tell her how difficult it had at times been to restrain himself from doing just that, how many times he chided himself for even entertaining the though that she could want him in such a way… And then the fear, the fear that it would change everything between them, and that she would look at him differently, and later come to hate him for it.

She turned back towards the bench and bent forward, reaching for the bourbon, allowing him to see that she was wearing crouch-less panties. The sigh caused him to groan in protest, moments before he registered her pouring a glass of bourbon.

He was about to voice an objection, when she spoke, "Oh, the cuffs are bedroom issue," she said as she placed closed the bottle and placed it back on the counter.

It took his mind mere seconds to register what she had said. He pressed the button that would release the cuffs, they had barely hit the ground before he tugged the glass from her hand, husking in her ear, "You're not allowed that." He slammed the glass on the counter, as he pushed against her back, his hard cock slipping into her with minimal guidance as his grip tightened, viselike, on her hips. He grunted, primitively, as he hit full depth, and grunted, "You only need to ask Abbs, I'll give it to you any way you want." and stared thrusting into her. Thinking it almost impossible that his body could to ache so much for hers, could burn with its need for fulfillment and the bliss he found in her.

"Then fuck me Gunny, fuck me hard."

"I plant to," he grunted, setting a hard pace. His hands gripped her hips, then moved to grip her shoulders, to push her down more, and then he was lost. There was nothing but his need to move, to feel, to claim. To go deeper, harder, than he ever had before. Her body welcomed him, challenged him, and encouraged him to cast off all attempts of civility, to become the essence of the man he was. His body trembled from his efforts, his lungs burned, and still he could not let up, he needed to feel her warmth caress him, tug at him. Their bodies slapped together, repeatedly. Her encouraging grunts called to him. The scent of them filled his nostrils. His blood rushed in his ears as he lost himself in her. His only objective was to cum, as hard as he could, as long as he could, inside her.

Her body gripped him has, and he lurched against her, uncontrollably, the familiar tingling stared along his spine. Building, approaching, his body jerked hard against her, his entire being stiffening, tightening, a mere heartbeat before it released, pumping his essence into her. His release was almost painful in its intensity, and so unlike any other he had ever experienced. He jerked to a halt as the last pulse shot through him, leaving his legs weak, his body trembling, rasping for breath. He staggered back some, pulling her with him as he dropped onto the chair, his mind barely registering the wood's protest, as he wrapped her in a tight embrace and held her to him, heeding to his overwhelming need to hold onto her.

He pushed hir head into the crook of her neck as his body slowly settled. She moved, and he stilled her movement.

"You okay?" she eventually asked, the small note of concern in her voice, tugged on his heartstrings.

"I'm fine Abbs, too much, can't stand," and hugged her closer still, his body still trembling.

"You okay?" he asked when he finally regained some of his composure. She just nodded her head and he closed her arms around him.

"You still haven't told me your fantasy," she murmured.

He felt a smile cross his lips at that, and kissed her shoulder before lowly husking, "I'm living it."

..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·.ƸϊƷ.·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..·¤°°¤·..


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